Asleep
by hermiones-books
Summary: Hermione loves watching Ron sleep, and Ron just adores nights with Hermione.
1. Asleep

_**A/N: **__This is sort of an impulse ff. It just came to me today, and it's rather short. Hope you like it anyway._

_You have been forewarned; the fluff is strong with this one._

* * *

Hermione loves watching Ron sleep.

His eye lashes flutter against his cheeks as he dreams. His red hair is ruffled and messy against the white pillow. His breath comes out slow and steady, reminding her that he is still alive.

Still breathing.

Despite all that has gone wrong with their lives, despite all the pain and sorrow they have been through, despite how much they have lost, they are still breathing. They still have each other. He reminds her of that each time a gentle breath comes from his half open lips or passes through his nose in one of those earth-shaking, besieging snores of his.

She once found those snores so annoying. They kept her up all the way across the hall when she spent summers at the borrow. She used to roll her eyes at him in the morning, when he came into the kitchen well rested, ready to wolf down his breakfast, and she was sleep deprived and grumpy. "Could you snore a bit louder tonight, Ronald? I don't think that London could quite hear you." She would bicker.

Now each snore reminds her of what she could have lost. Each snore seems to say, _I'm here. I'm alive. I'm not going anywhere. _

She loves those snores.

She awoke a few moments ago from a startling nightmare. It was the same as always. She had watched Ron and Harry die at the Battle of Hogwarts, knowing it was her fault. They had been among the many bodies in Hogwarts. Normally Ron was awoken by her screams and sobs when she had this dream. However, she is getting more used to the nightmares as time passes by and tonight she must have been silent because Ron is snoring as always.

She doesn't mind. In fact, she is glad of it, happy to watch him sleep, so peaceful. His contentment makes her feel content as well. As long as he is okay, she is okay. _He is beautiful, _she thinks. She knows that boys aren't supposed to be called beautiful, but that is the only word that could adequately describe him in this moment. His long lashes keep beating against the cheeks ridden with the dark freckles she adores so much. His perfect lips keep letting soft breaths out and taking more in. His big, slightly calloused, freckled hands tighten slightly on her waist when she moves a little closer to him.

She can't wait for him to wake up. She can't wait to get lost in the clear sea of his eyes. She can't wait for the gentle pressure of his lips against hers, or to feel his fingers knotted in her hair. She can't wait to eat breakfast with him in the kitchen, to finally feel the normalcy she was deprived of for so long. She can't wait to go to work then come home and do it all over again.

For now she is content.

For now she watches him breathe in, breathe out.

For now she feels grateful that she was given this- the simple pleasure of watching him sleep.

She curls closer to him, her ear pressed against his chest, the steady beat of his heart murmuring a rhythm in her ear.

_I am alive, _it seems to say.

Hermione smiles, and when she finally drifts back to sleep, lulled by the symphony of Ron's heart, she doesn't dream.


	2. Nights

_**A/N: **I wasn't ever really planning on adding to this, but I thought it might be nice to see Ron's perspective on nights with Hermione, so here it is. Hope you enjoy!_

**Nights:**

Ron loved nights with Hermione.

And not in the way that one might expect, although he certainly liked that aspect of it too. No, Ron loved the nights that were calm and still, the nights when they fell asleep together or the nights when Hermione fell asleep before him.

Most of the time she fell asleep long after he did and he often had to wonder how she slept at all considering his embarrassingly loud snoring. But on those rare nights when she fell asleep before him, he couldn't help but watch her as she slept. Usually these nights occurred when Ron worked late. Most of the time he came home around midnight, finding her with a bunch of books strewn around the bed and some half-finished work that she had fallen asleep doing. On these nights, he smiled to himself and removed all of her work carefully, knowing she was apt to bite his head off if he lost her place in any of her books or removed her paper work from its rightful place. Then he changed into his pajamas and crawled into bed beside her.

She was as beautiful as ever when she slept; her unruly hair strewn out on her pillow, long eye lashes batting gently against her cheeks, small limbs curled up into a ball, soft breaths issuing from her mouth and the occasional gentle snore coming from her nose. Ron loved how peaceful she looked, and he wished that he could only keep her that calm and at peace for the rest of their lives. He wanted to keep her that content forever, as impossible as it was to do so.

Some nights Hermione clenched her fists and grit her teeth hard, breaking the peaceful façade and reminding him of all they had been through together. It was these nights that he knew she was remembering. Remembering Bellatrix's layer or their time at the cottage or the battle of Hogwarts or anything from that long, hard year. Inevitably, on these nights she would awake with tears in her eyes and seek Ron, making sure he was safe with her, reaching out for him. On these nights, Ron wrapped his arms around her, assuring her that he was real, that he was not going anywhere, and that the year was over. He'd kiss her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, her lips. Promise to always be there on nights like these, when she needed him most. It was these nights that Ron felt the most scared and the most needed. Scared that one day Hermione might wake up and his reassurances wouldn't be enough, that they were both just too scarred and this thing they had could never last forever. Needed because whenever she was lost or confused, the brilliant Hermione Granger came looking for him of all people, awkward Ronald Weasley. And he wouldn't have it any other way, no matter how much her dependence on him during these nights frightened him.

Other nights it was Ron who woke up in a cold sweat. Most of the time, Hermione would already be up, looking up at him with deep concern. Whether that was because she was already up or because her brilliance extended to this matter remained to be seen. He always went straight for her, glad to see that she was indeed there, alive and safe with him. She ran her fingers through his hair, assuring him that she was okay, that she was there. She promised to remain with him forever, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her, making sure she was real, burying his face into her neck. She kissed him in much the same manner he kissed her when she awoke from her dreams, in that deep yet gentle way that promised that she was there, that they were together. It was on these nights that Ron loved Hermione most, his ardency reawaken by the nightmares and fear that she might not be there one night when he awoke.

Yet she always there for him, just as he was always there for her.

And Ron supposed this was why he loved nights with Hermione. Because it was just the two of them, and no matter what had happened during the day, they were always there when they most needed on another. They had a home within one another.

So, Ron loved nights with Hermione.


End file.
